


Silver eyes, silver hair

by Rogercat



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Bisexual Male Character, Blow Jobs, Desire, Doriath, Elves, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Age, Half-Elves, Kissing, Long-Distance Relationship, Long-Term Relationship(s), M/M, Older Man/Younger Man, Reunion Sex, Royalty, Secret Relationship, The Noldor, The Sindar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 20:32:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17210447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rogercat/pseuds/Rogercat
Summary: There is more than one reason to why Celegorm comes along to Doriath





	Silver eyes, silver hair

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mangacrack](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mangacrack/gifts).



> A early birthday gift for you, Mangacrack, since this story idea refused to leave me alone!

They could sense the distrust in the air as they rode on towards Menegroth, eyes watching their every movement. Of course, it was only natural that Doriath had become more careful in dealing with people outside the realm, but it was still worrying.  

 

“Keep some hidden weapons on you, we do not know if someone at the court may be brazen enough to disobey their King about that we are his guests,” Maedhros requested in Quenya while whispering. His brothers nodded, agreeing with him on that. Besides, it actually was Celegorm who looked the most nervous, his dominant hand reaching up towards a pocket on his leather west several times before stopping himself. 

 

There are courtiers who greets them at the entrance, outside a few formal welcome greetings, the same silence and distrust as in the woods. One familiar face among them, but Galadriel made no movement to greet the cousins she once had known in Valinor. Not that they minded, it was not like she had been close to them in the past when they all were young and innocent. 

 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

 

The throne chamber speaks mainly of that it was Thingol who built it. Silver decorations on a dark blue background, painted to mirror stylized flowers or stars on the night sky. 

 

But it is not Thingol who sits in the throne, dressed in light green robes and a plain gold band as crown which brings out the chestnut brown colour on the hair. No, the figure is far younger, and while there is a justified claim in the rumour about him being a very fair being, Dior Eluchil still looked almost relieved at the sight of the Fëanorian brothers. Breaking against etiquette, he even stood up when they bowed in greeting to him as a sign of respect to his higher social rank. 

 

“ _ Dhe suilon, Aran Dior. _ ” Maedhros spoke, since he was the eldest and leader for the brothers. 

 

“ _ Mae de 'ovannen. Êl síla erin lû e-govaned 'wîn. Dhe nathlof hi. _ ”

 

Dior's greeting was flawless, but his body language spoke of that he had not adjusted fully to the court manners of Doriath despite that it was the third year of his reign. He was not masking his facial expression, for example, and there was hard to miss how his silver eyes dashed against Celegorm when he could.

 

“ _ Dhe nathlof hi, _ ” a softer, more feminine voice spoke, and Dior's wife Nimloth revealed herself behind a curtain, the reason being the two young Elflings at each side of her, and a third, tinier child hiding behind her. It seemed that the children had been nervous for meeting those strange Elves, who looked so different from the Elves at court. 

 

“Boys, please welcome our guests, they have traveled a long way to come here.”

 

To be fair, the twin princes and their little sister was still young enough to be excused if they were too shy for talking with strangers. 

  
  


They managed to get through the welcoming dinner without too much trouble. True, they did not mention anything about the Silmaril, but Dior had managed to send a secret letter to them that he did wish to give back the gemstone to the brothers, for in his eyes it was a just a painful reminder of his parents and something he felt uncomfortable to have. Besides, it had been Thingol to start the whole mess in the first place by requesting a such poorly-thought-of brice price for the hand of his daughter in marriage to Beren, without knowing of how the House of Fëanor might react to such news when they heard it. 

 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

 

At coming back to the guest room he had been given, Celegorm removed all clothes expect for his leggings and a very simple stone dagger of flint still hung like a necklace around his neck in a leather string which had been hidden under his tunic earlier. Dior and Nimloth may be welcoming hosts, but they could not promise that their subjects was thinking the same way.

 

“Not to mention that Dior barely could restrain himself…” he thought, laying down on the bed above the covers. It was almost too soft for his taste, after living in Amon Ereb with simple comforts and sleeping on the ground even if he had a good tent as cover against the weather.

 

A clicking sound from the wall, and a hidden door was revealed opposite the bed. He was not surprised to see who it was. The crown had been removed and the over layers of the outfit, but he seemed to almost have run though the hidden corridor the moment he could do it.  

 

“You had good self-control for someone who have not met with his lover in almost three years. Though I would not have blamed you if you had lost control, the hunger in your eyes was pretty clear.”

 

Dior did not respond at first, only threw himself hard at Celegorm so they both landed on the bed again in the first embrace shared in elven passed seasons.

 

“ **_I missed you so much…_ ** ” Dior whispered in honest longing mixed with desire, pressing himself closer to the Noldo, who met the hungry kisses in the same manner, feeling the finger bury themselves in his silvery curls, undoing the braid from earlier in the day.  

 

Officially, they had never met before today, but in reality Celegorm did know Dior very well. They had first met when the son of Beren and Luthien was a mere youth sixteen years ago, feeling lost about his place in the world since he felt like everyone only saw him as the son of his parents, not for the person he tried to be. Their love affair had not really been a act of spite against Luthien from the beginning, no, it had been born from Dior desiring a way to stop feeling like someone who was ignorant about things people thought him too young to know. And Celegorm had gladly been his teacher in more than just hunting and survival skills whatever Dior could escape for a few weeks from Tol Galen. Some of the most wonderful summers of his life, because it gave him a new meaning in life, even when Dior had needed to obey the family expectations of him and marrying to have children so the royal line of Doriath could continue. But that duty had been something he had known about from the start, that it would come eventually before Dior grew too old to fathering children simply because he was mortal. 

 

Breaking the kiss to let Dior get some needed air to breathe, Celegorm whispered:

 

“Do not apologize about being unable to meet in the summer warmed woods like before. As the heir to your grandfather, you had little choice than accept the throne unless you found a way out.” 

 

To Celegorm's great delight, Nimloth had accepted their affair when Dior had confessed about it. She was very open-minded for someone who had married a far younger husband, and since Dior himself was the first known half-Elven born between a Elf and a Man, it was impossible to know if others like him would be drawn to both genders as well.

 

“By the stars, Tyelko,  _ stop talking! _ ”

 

Not a command, a plea out of desperation. He obeyed, using his flint dagger to simple cut though though all the layers than than wasting time of needing to free Dior from them. He frowned slightly at seeing that his younger lover had lost some of the strong muscles he had only three summers before. Did Doriath neglect to feed their King properly or insisting that he did not need to do heavy work like before? Dior honestly looked ashamed at realizing what Celegorm saw. 

 

“You need to train more, this is unworthy of the strong hunter and apprentice I taught the secrets of the cult to the Huntsman.” 

 

Dior gasped when Celegorm moved inside his trousers, a familiar hand touching him in a manner that he and Nimloth had not done much lately because of exhaustion from their royal duties and caring for three young children. 

 

“Get closer here.” 

 

Pushing Dior closer to kneel at his shoulders while opening the trousers, Celegorm took the half-Elven deeply in his mouth. He knew already from their earlier love-making that Dior would hesitate to push too deeply in fear of choking him, so he took a firm hold of the hips in order to keep it at a length and rhyme that he knew Dior enjoyed. Soon, he heard the moans of pleasure he aimed for. Luthien may be called the fairest of them all, but in his eyes, her son surpassed her in beauty, especially now when he had that heavy blush on his face and gasping in a erotic way. When he felt that the King was close, he stopped since he knew another, better way to pleasure Dior. 

 

Freeing himself from his leggings, Celegorm used the same movement to pull Dior back further down and open a vial of oil he had kept ready, just in case. Kissing Dior again as distraction, he then used a oiled finger to make himself ready. The Noldo was no stranger to have Dior take him, instead he turned around so he laid on his stomach and raised himself back up on the knees, allowing the half-Elven to take him like a animal in the woods. It is not a position Dior generally likes because he is not one to show dominance in that way, but three years of absence seems to make today a exception because of how desperate he is to bond with Celegorm again.  

 

“Yeeees….just like that...”

 

When feeling that he was close, Dior pressed both Celegorm and himself down on the bed covers with a strength that would have surprised others because he was of a slender body shape, even biting Celegorm in the shoulder to not scream out in pleasure as he came. Not that Celegorm would have protested, the last thing they needed was to be discovered in a position like this by someone who would betray the King. Doriath was firmly against sexual relationships between males and if they found out that Dior had one of his “natural enemies” as a lover, because they saw Celegorm as a brute for his action against Dior's parents in the past, there was a very high risk that Dior would face fatal consequences simply because he was not fully faithful to Nimloth in their eyes. And she, along with his three children, would be dragged into the ugly mess as well. 

 

“...I…” Dior started, but Celegorm interrupted him: 

 

“No apologies, I said earlier. You have a good wife, but for your more wilder desires I am better suited, remember?” 

 

Not that Nimloth was passive in bed, no, she could have a few wicked ideas of her own if she was in the right mood, but Dior was afraid of hurting her if he went too far. 

 

Gently pushing Dior off him to the side, Celegorm looked around in the room. His eyes fell on the chair at the table, imagining something that they had not done many times before. 

 

“Come.” 

 

Seating himself on the chair, he placed Dior in his lap and oiled up his finger to then starting tease the opening he sought for. Dior tried to press against the finger, feeling a desperate need to be filled up. 

 

“That impatient after so long time, huh?” Celegorm smirked, licking the neck after moving the hair over one shoulder. Just to tease Dior a little, he did not enter the half-Elven right away but kept sliding just outside, holding his legs apart with his own.  

 

“ **_Celegorm!_ ** ” 

 

Dior drew a sharp breath when Celegorm finally entered him, deeply. Smiling a almost feral smile, Celegorm had a firm hold on the hips first as he held Dior in place, trusting upwards. Using a chair like this was very different than a fallen tree or tree stump to sit on. 

 

“Are you imagining me taking you on that stupid throne you have to be seated on each day? I agree that it would be a sight, indeed, to see the King of Doriath being claimed by the rejected suitor of his mother….” 

 

Dior became even redder in the face at the mention of a such fantasy as he tried to look over the shoulder, revealing it well enough. That was part of why Celegorm enjoyed the half-Elven as a lover, not just because of how he would have been a forbidden fruit for Celegorm among the people he could have chosen to bed, but because Dior was not afraid of admitting ideas even if they never really acted out on them for various reasons. 

 

“ _ You are perfect, a true treasure that Doriath does not deserve. If I could do it without the consequences that my brothers would have to deal with, I would have stolen you away a long time ago, claiming you as mine and mine alone so no one else could have you. _ ” 

 

Each word was followed by a mighty trust, making Dior moan and gasp of pleasure. He knew that Celegorm was serious about their relationship, and that things could have looked so different if there just had been one small change in the past. But he had been bound by his duties as a royal heir, and doubted that Thingol would had allowed him to escape. Feeling the familiar warmth of Celegorm spilling into him with a growl, Dior could not hold back his tears. He was not crying from pain, but the pleasure that was so forbidden for him in so many ways. 

 

The pleasure had been so intensive that Dior was just barely aware of Celegorm carrying him back to the bed so they could enjoy themselves with skin contact under the covers. Once he could breathe normally again, Dior said in a low voice;

 

“I really meant what I wrote in that letter. I do not want the Silmaril in Doriath any longer than necessary and I would prefer to not it ending up in a battle where lives will be lost.” 

 

Celegorm had to agree. Some people may think that Dior was too soft-hearted in matters like this about the Silmaril and the House of Fëanor, but in reality it proved that he tried to find the most peaceful solution. He was enough of a good warrior and quick thinker in how to use his surroundings that the seven brothers would face difficulty in defeating him in battle if there was a one against one duel despite that he was so much younger, and had killed his fair share of orcs in his younger years. Yet at the core of his soul Dior was a peaceful person who hated conflicts and doubted that he would be a good leader in the war against Morgoth. He lived for his family, not for any kind of glory that would earn him a good name and set him apart from his famed parents throughout the coming centuries. 

 

“And that is the wisdom you tries to rule your Kingdom with. They do not realize why you are so different from your grandfather and mother, but you are not weak in contrast to them. You see the bigger image, the dangers that they failed to see once. Even if you may die one day from being mortal and not remembered as a long-lived ruler, the more foolish side of the Quest for the Silmaril shall be known, I promise you that. It is great love story, I admit that, but some of the costs was not worth it.”

 

Celegorm tenderly touched Dior's cheek as he spoke, wiping away the remains of the tears from earlier. It still strung to recall how Luthien had rejected him, but he refused to let Dior suffer from a event happening long before he even was born. 

 

“I will make it clear that if something happens to me and Nimloth, our children shall be given over to your family for fostering, all three of them. I will not have a daughter who is ignorant of what political chaos her grandmother once made because she caught the heart of suitors in what I view as a unnatural manner, or that my sons is unable to defend Doriath against the Dark Lord because they are used to the comfort of the royal court.” 

 

Dior really meant it. He did not want his family to suffer for what his parents once had done, and he knew how deadly Celegorm could be in battle. The idea of them ending up killing each other in battle, was something which haunted his nightmares since he had became King because it had changed so much in his life, that their former feelings would be destroyed if a such situation was forced on them.

 

Looking into the silver eyes, inherited from his Maia grandmother, Celegorm could feel his anxiety though their bond. The younger King did not need to say anything, it was visible in his eyes. 

 

“Then make a official request that will keep me here, tomorrow when you intend to hand over the Silmaril to Maedhros as the Head of our family. Like teaching the Marchwardens about the beasts hunting where the Noldor once had their realms, the best way to keep orcs away from Doriath now when the Girdle is no longer here as a barrier against attacks from Angband.” 

 

That was a simple and reasonable request to do, since Doriath was so used to be protected by the Girdle of Melian that many civilians had no idea in how to actually use weapons against enemies. And with the House of Fëanor being the strongest military power left to stand against Morgoth, their help would be needed eventually. 

 

“That is a perfect argument the next time someone is foolish enough to think that Doriath is able to stand against Morgoth on its own. And...it should ensure that we can meet more often again.” 

 

Dior cuddled up against Celegorm, smiling in joy as he fell asleep. Celegorm kissed his brow with a similar fond smile, reminding himself to wake up Dior later so he could sneak back to his shared bedchamber with Nimloth so no one would wonder where the King had been half the night.                 __ __


End file.
